Drawn

by Anderson, Lilliana

  “Oh no!” I gasp, forcing my way to the front of the crowd. Damien pushes toward two of his assailants, dropping down so that he can spin under his arms, crossing them over so that all four men are now standing together. He pushes as they pull, and drops them in a pile on the asphalt ground.

  I freeze where I am, watching as they come at him over and over again. As one strikes out, Damien takes his arm and twists his body, flinging him into another attacker as he turns to deal with the two on his other side. It’s like a flurry of motion that leaves the four men groaning and clutching their limbs painfully.

  “Who’s next?” he yells, looking around the circle as one of the guys I saw him with earlier walks around collecting money. As his eyes land on me, his expression changes. “What are you doing out here?” he demands.

  “I…” I start, but I don’t get to finish as my dizziness twists in my stomach and erupts out of my mouth, spewing all the food and drink I’ve had onto the ground in front of me.

  “Shit.” I hear hissed around me, mingled with a few groans, as those close by jump clear of the spray.

  Leaning forward, it’s as if a faucet has been turned on, and I can’t stop until my stomach is painfully empty.

  “Finished now?” a soft voice asks. I look up, suddenly realising that Damien is holding me up and keeping my hair out of my face.

  “I think so,” I groan, trying to stand.

  He holds me against him to steady me as I struggle upright.

  “Can you walk?” he asks calmly.

  “I think so,” I attempt to say again, but it doesn’t sound like that. My mouth is struggling to speak, and my body doesn’t even want to move. I sag against him, my head dropping onto his shoulder. As I feel material instead of skin against my face, I wonder when he managed to put his shirt back on, and then I pass out.

  Chapter 7

  “Oh god,” I moan, as I attempt to sit up. My head feels like it’s attempting to leave my brain behind on the pillow. Clutching at my forehead, I force myself upright, swinging my feet over the side of the bed, my soles coming into contact with…carpet? I wriggle my toes – my floor doesn’t have carpet.

  Slowly, I open my eyes and look around. It takes a moment for my vision to clear, but in front of me is a tall chest of drawers, finished in a high gloss black lacquer, their handles hidden underneath a curved exterior, edged in white laminate.

  The bedside tables are exactly the same, and besides a bedside lamp, no surface holds anything on top, it’s all perfectly clear. And except for where I’ve been laying, the king-sized bed is perfectly made too, with a white bedspread and a charcoal throw blanket at its base.

  Above the bed is a large canvas painting, it’s all grey, with white circular shapes and flecks of black paint, you can actually see the texture of the paint on there.

  “How are you feeling?” a deep voice, softly asks.

  I turn around, wincing when my head punishes me for my movement, squinting through the pain as my eyes land on Damien, who is sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. It’s as if he’s been watching me sleep.

  He lifts the glass of water he has sitting on a small round table beside him and rises to walk over to me.

  “What am I doing here?” I croak, taking the glass of water as he holds it out to me.

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I remember dancing. I remember drinking. Then I wanted to visit the bathroom but I ended up outside… and you… you were fighting?”

  He smiles, only one side of his lip turning upward as he reaches out and removes the now empty glass from my hands.

  “You had a bit too much to drink, passed out, and I brought you here to sleep it off.”

  “How did you get me here?”

  “With great difficulty,” he laughs through his nose. “But I couldn’t really take you home. Your father would have my head.”

  “Oh no! What time is it? I should be home. He’ll refuse to let me move out.”

  “Relax, your mum texted to see if you were still out and having fun. So I replied for you – told her you were still at the party and still having a great time. She said to keep going, and let her deal with your dad. I think you’re pretty safe, but… you smell like spew.”

  “Oh shit,” I moan, looking down at my new dress and seeing splatters of sick on it from the vodka mixes I was drinking. “I’m dead.”

  “No you’re not. Here, put these on,” he says, throwing a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt at me. “We can get that cleaned in the laundry downstairs.”

  “Are you going to stand there and watch me?” I ask, as I pick up the clothes.

  Grinning, he shakes his head. “I thought you might want to take a shower first. There’s a clean towel in the bathroom,” he says, nodding toward the door.

  “Oh, of course,” I stammer, pushing through my legs to stand. Although I’m still feeling dizzy and stumble forward a little.

  Damien rises instantly and steadies me, his arms sliding around my waist and holding my elbow. “You made a right mess of yourself, didn’t you?” he points out, his voice so gentle, it causes emotion to prick behind my eye.

  I simply nod, my own self-pity winning over as a tear manages to escape and slide down my cheek.

  “Come on,” he says softly, as he leads me out of the room and into the bathroom. Due to the sick feeling in my stomach, I drop down on top of the closed lid of the toilet and lean against his vanity while he prepares the shower for me.

  “You’re very tidy,” I comment, looking around and noticing how clean the tiles and basin are in his bathroom.

  “Not every guy is a pig,” he says, running his forearm under the water to test the temperature. “It’s fine now. Will you be ok?”

  “Yes. I’m not letting you undress me.”

  “I’m not suggesting that. I just don’t want you to fall and hit your head.”

  “Ok, I get it. You’re worried about my father’s wrath.”

  “No. I’m actually worried about you. What would have happened if I didn’t take care of you tonight? Where the hell was Aaron?”

  “I don’t know. I think he was getting us drinks.”

  “Well you don’t leave a girl on her own in a club – ever,” he spits out, glaring at me. His outburst causes me to jump slightly, and I’m unsure of how to react.

  “Take your shower. Then I’ll wash your clothes and take you home,” he says calmly as he walks out of the door.

  For a while I just sit there, feeling horrible and deeply regretting getting myself into this situation. I’m suddenly realising why my father was so against me going out – I’ve managed to make a total fool of myself.

  As I shower, using Damien’s Lynx body wash to clean my hair, and his mouthwash to remove the terrible taste from my mouth, I slowly start to feel human again. Turning off the water, I step out onto the floor mat and dry myself before getting back into my underwear – at least I didn’t vomit all over that.

  My dress however, is a total mess, and I feel so terrible for behaving badly. I pick up the navy blue cotton boxer shorts and hold them in front of me. Damien has really narrow hips. I’m not sure that his things will fit me.

  Sliding them over my legs, I sigh as I feel the material pull tight around my thighs and buttocks. Suddenly that song about ‘short shorts’ starts going through my mind.

  Dropping the t-shirt over my head, I pull it down, grateful for his broad shoulders – at least this fits me.

  “Um… do you have any other pants I could wear?” I ask as I emerge from the bathroom, feeling incredibly exposed in the fitted shorts.

  “What’s wrong with those?”

  “They’re um… your underwear…”

  “I only wear them to sleep.”

  “Ok, well… they’re very… short.”

  “I’m the only one that will see you.”

  His eyes travel from my bare feet, up my legs and over my body, slowly, until he reaches my face, locking his gaze with mine. I
don’t breathe the entire time as a hunger toward him that I’m not sure I want sated, flares inside my body.

  “Give me your dress,” he says after a beat, holding out his hand.

  “I’ll wash it. It’s kind of gross.” I say in a rush, trying to sound normal.

  He reaches forward and grabs it from my hand, sighing a little as he snatches it away.

  “Just wait here. Drink some more water. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he instructs.

  Doing as I’m asked, I fill up a glass from the tap and drink. Although my stomach isn’t too keen on the idea of having any more liquid introduced to it right now. So I slowly sip, walking around the apartment as I do.

  “What the hell did you do with her?” I hear after a while, coming from outside the door. Holding my breath, I listen.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, mate.”

  “Etta. Where the fuck did you take her? Is she in there?”

  “She was drunk. She passed out. She’s lucky I was there, because you certainly weren’t taking care of her.”

  “Fuck you Damien. She was just having some fun – blowing off steam. We all do it. I just spent the whole night looking for her, then someone says they saw her leave with you. Where the hell is she?”

  “Safe.”

  “In there?” Suddenly, he’s banging on the door. “Etta?”

  Oh god, please don’t let Aaron catch me in here, I pray, realising how bad it would look if he saw me wearing Damien’s clothes.

  “Etta?” he calls out again.

  “Satisfied?” Damien says. I hear a slight shuffling sound on the other side of the door and then, “Are you serious? You’re calling her now? It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

  Shit! My phone! Frantically, I look around the apartment to try and locate my bag, finding it sitting in the centre of the couch. When I grab my phone out, it’s lighting up with Aaron’s name and number, but it’s already on silent – Damien must have done it while I was sleeping.

  “Hello?” I whisper, creeping into the bathroom so he can’t hear me through the door.

  “Etta,” he breathes. “It’s Aaron. I’ve been trying to call you all night. Are you ok?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just sleeping. I drank way too much. I’m so sorry. I’m really embarrassed about it all,” I try to explain.

  “It’s ok. As long as you’re alright… I was worried.”

  “I appreciate it. I really am sorry.”

  “It’s ok – really. You can make it up to me another time.”

  I can’t control myself as a smile creeps over my face. “So… I didn’t scare you off?”

  “Never. Sleep well Etta. I’ll talk to you soon,” he says in a soft voice, and I can actually hear him smile.

  “You too,” I murmur, ending the call before exiting the bathroom.

  The moment I open the door, I suck in my breath. Damien is right there, like he’s appeared out of nowhere. I drop my phone. He’s right in front of me, his intense eyes boring into mine, making my world fall away as my heart pounds against my chest.

  His eyes drop to my lips and without even meaning to, I lick them. When they flick back up to meet mine, I see the look. I know I’m in trouble.

  Like magnets of opposite poles, unable to control their pull, our mouths collide. His tongue pushing and sliding against mine as our teeth clash and our breath mingles.

  We pull at each other, like we’re trying to draw the other inside ourselves. It’s a strange feeling, one that I’ve never experienced before. I’m normally always in control, but tonight has been one of those times when I’m not. Although each time I’ve had something to do with Damien I’ve lost control…

  Somehow, we end up on his bed, kissing like the connection between our mouths is the only reason we’re alive. His hands slide over my curves, skirting around the edges of my clothing.

  When his fingers brush lightly between my thighs, I moan, arching up to meet him as my body makes this decision for me – I want him. Suddenly, he freezes and breaks our kiss, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy.

  “This needs to stop,” he murmurs, his voice thick and gravelly sounding.

  “I…” I start, not really knowing what it is I should say.

  “Shit,” he hisses, sitting up on the bed, pulling away from me. He doesn’t really look at me, just sits, leaning forward on his thighs as he rubs his hand back and forward over the top of his head. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Stay here. I’m going to check on your dress.”

  Suddenly I feel really cold, very alone and … rejected.

  Taking the blanket from the end of the bed, I wrap it around my shoulders, then go and retrieve my phone.

  What’s going on with me? I never really go out and when I do, I end up making out with two guys and nearly sleeping with one of them. I like Aaron, I really do. He’s a good friend, fun to be around, and so loyal to me.

  Then there’s Damien, who has really been nothing but a problem since the moment I met him. But somehow, he’s the one I almost end up sleeping with. Jesus.

  Moving over to the couch, I pick the remote up off the coffee table and power on the television, flicking through the channels until I find something that isn’t an infomercial trying to sell me something.

  Time ticks away as I wait for Damien to return. I find myself fidgeting impatiently, constantly looking at the door and wondering if I should just go and find him. Eventually though, he bursts through the door, causing me to jump.

  “Get dressed. I’ll take you home,” he says, handing me my now clean dress.

  A deep sense of hurt fills my chest. “Is the idea of sleeping with me that bad?” I ask, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom.

  “No Henrietta. Not at all,” he tells me, his voice calm, his gaze intense. “Just go and get dressed.”

  “Then why did you stop?”

  “Get dressed,” he repeats.

  I briefly consider getting dressed in front of him, just to see what he would do. But I don’t. Stepping through the doorway, I quickly remove his clothes and put my own dress, warm from the dryer, back on.

  “Ready,” I say, my voice small and quiet as I emerge.

  He’s already standing by the door, holding my bag, his keys in his hand. The sight hurts my heart.

  Following him out, I glance toward Aaron’s door. Feeling horribly guilty about everything that has happened tonight, as I make my way to Damien’s car and we start the short drive home.

  “So um, what was the deal with you fighting? Is that something you always do?” I ask after a good five minutes of silence.

  “Not always,” he states, focusing only on the road. I watch him as he drives, the lights of the streets flashing over his definite features as he traverses the street, not making an effort to further any sort of conversation with me until we arrive out the front of my house.

  “Looks like someone’s waiting up for you,” he says, nodding toward the light coming from our lounge room window.

  Glancing at the read out on his car radio, it’s 3am. My father isn’t going to be happy. I just hope that my mum kept her word and kept him calm.

  “Well, goodbye,” I say, opening the car door. “And thanks.”

  He just nods, keeping his eyes forward as he grips at the steering wheel, leaving me wondering what it is I’ve done wrong.

  “I’ll see you around Henrietta,” he says, meeting my eyes briefly, a tiny grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll wait ’til you’re inside.”

  Nodding, I shut the car door, and jog up to the entrance to my house. The moment I slide my key inside, the lock turns from the inside, and I’m face to face with my father.

  “Who’s that? Is that Damien?” he asks, looking over my shoulder.

  “Yes. He gave me a lift home.”

  My father simply grunts his acceptance and nods toward the car. As I look over my shoulder, the rumble of the engine bursts into the atmosp
here as Damien drives away.

  Chapter 8

  The next day is spent pretending I don’t have a hangover while I pack up my room, ready for the big move tomorrow. My father hasn’t said a word about how late I came home last night, so I think my mother must have worked some pretty amazing magic.

  “Do you want me to just stack these boxes in the lounge room?” he asks, pointing at the packed books and personal items that I want to take with me. I don’t need furniture since the room already has some, but the guts of my room is coming with me.

  “Yes please,” I say, as I shove a drawer’s worth of clothing into my suitcase. Once that’s full, I move on to putting the rest of my clothes into another box.

  “This house is going to feel very empty as of tomorrow,” my mother comments as she brings over most of my hanging garments.

  “Mum, I’m moving one train stop away. I’ll be back for dinner regularly,” I assure her.

  “You’d better. Otherwise, I’ll send your father out to drag you back here.” Reaching out, she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace.

  “Mum?” I say over her shoulder, still hugging her. She hums in response, squeezing me a little tighter. “I know you’ll never change Craig’s room. But can you please reclaim mine? Turn it into a home gym or something.”

  “Sure I will,” she sniffles, so I know she’s started crying. “I might just knock down a wall and make a giant bathroom or massive wardrobe.” She pulls away from me and wipes at her eyes, putting on a brave face.

  “I think that would be a great idea,” I smile, turning back to my packing. She’s joking of course. I’m sure that my room will forever be mine. But I want her to know that she’s free to change it if she likes.

  Just as I start off the last box of stuff, my phone goes off from beside my bed, displaying an image of Aaron sitting on the grass at uni.

  “Hey,” I say in greeting as I answer.

  “Are you free? I wanted to know if we could talk.”

  “Um… I’m kind of in the middle of…”

  My mother starts to make frantic hand gestures as she whispers about leaving it with her. “Go, go” she yell-whispers, shooing me away with her hands.